


heat

by hyperphonic



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Sharing a Bed, wet dreams turned hot sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 04:25:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13803360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyperphonic/pseuds/hyperphonic
Summary: “So,” he rumbles when he flops back onto their bed, head turned to the side to stare at her from the mattress. “What do you want to do for the next nine hours?”





	heat

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: all i own is one (1) sick ass "casual sex friday" coffee mug

Hoth is kriffing _cold_. Colder than Starkiller, colder than the longest night on Jakku; the kind of cold that draws Rey’s shoulders up towards her ears and makes her clench her jaw to the point of dull pain. She was born on a desert planet for _kriffs_ sake, how was she supposed to be of any use on this worthless, cold planet?  Rey spitefully kicks a chunk of ice, irritation only compounded by the man next to her completely indifferent to the cold. The shuttle had dropped them off about two standard hours ago, and they’ve been darting around Hoth since, junking old Rebel equipment for parts (her), and surveying the area for potential use as a Resistance base (Ben). So far, and much to Rey’s chagrin, Hoth looks like a promising home for the Resistance (at least temporarily). 

They continue to work for the next four standard hours, slowly picking their way through the abandoned base, the open bond a warm contrast to the low air temperature. Ben sheds his cowl about halfway through and dumps it over Rey’s shoulders. She gratefully wriggles beneath the thick, layered fabric and doesn’t even bother to hide her thrill over the bond when it smells like him. Her partner fires back with an image of her in _nothing_ but his cowl, and the peal of Rey’s laughter echoes through the halls.

The weather on Hoth is a nearly sentient thing, roiling and oppressive like the sands of Jakku. By the time they’ve mapped out the functional regions of the base, it has closed in around them, whiting out the planet in a blizzard unlike anything Rey’s ever seen. Snow, she thinks, is a far _far_ more dangerous thing than sand. She radios their shuttle to confirm that they’d found shelter, and the pilot’s voice crackles back at her across the comm. 

“Roger that, if weather patterns hold, we should be able to touch down in ten standard.”

Ben makes no attempt to hide his thrill at the notion. 

After coaxing the heating unit of the residential sector back into working order; they find the least decrepit bunk to break camp in, and set about cleaning the little room as best they can. Ben continues to shed layers as the air warms around them, stripping down to just his base layer and flight pants, grinning wolfishly as Rey’s blush rises with each piece of dark clothing that hits the floor. Rey sits on the bed, still swathed in his cowl, and watches with hungry eyes as he goes about unlacing his boots, broad shoulders flexing with each fine movement of his fingers.

“So,” he rumbles when he flops back onto their bed, head turned to the side to stare at her from the mattress. “What do you want to do for the next nine hours?”

Rey smiles, low and slow, and allows the fire in her stomach to bleed across their bond. Ben’s eyes go dark, pulse jumping in his throat as she leans down _(down down down)_ to press a kiss against chapped lips. Almost instantly his hands are on her, thumbs pressing into the soft spot behind her hipbones as he lifts her up and onto his lap. She mouths at his throat, paying careful attention to the spot where his pulse still frantically beats, and Ben Solo _groans_. She responds with a roll of her hips against his rapidly growing erection, and fights back a groan of her own when he returns the gesture in kind. One large hand reaches up to curl around the nape of her neck, pulls her down for another searing kiss. 

“I want,” she breathes against the underside of his jaw when they part, tongue darting out to run the length of it, “to _sleep._ ” 

He freezes beneath her, chest rapidly rising and falling as he struggles to process her words. Rey grins, razor sharp, and rolls off his hips to settle under the covers. There’s a moment of silence in which she strives not to giggle (it echoes across the bond anyways) and Ben fights to come to terms with the fact that Rey of Jakku, the Last Jedi, and his desert girl, is a Giant Tease. With a resigned smile and a shake of his head, Ben shucks off his shirt and tugs his cowl off of Rey before slipping under the covers.

Between the newly repaired heating unit and the hot-blooded woman beneath the covers with him, Ben feels warmer maybe than he ever has in his entire life. Long arms snake forward to bring her back flush against his chest, and Rey lets out the softest of contented sighs. He is grateful for this moment alone with the woman he loves, grateful even more that she came crashing into his life in the first place.

“Sweet dreams,” he murmurs into her ear, grinning sharply at the shiver that runs down her spine. Rey grinds her ass back against his half hard length, and can’t help but giggle softly at the hand that darts up to squeeze her left breast in response. 

They actually _do_ manage to sleep for about five standard hours, curled up together in the little bunk. Rey’s breath puffs out steadily against the inside of Ben’s elbow, cheek cushioned on his bicep. His nose is buried in her hair, the arm not under her head thrown over her waist protectively. They’re so close, both in the Force and physically, that he feels her rock her hips back almost before it happens.

He’s already half hard and biting his lip when she does it again; rolls her hips back along the length of his dick, slow enough that he’s _sure_ she’s awake and doing it intentionally. The arm over her waist pulls back, hand curling against the sharp line of her hipbone to tighten when she mumbles his name, voice heavy with sleep. Her hips roll again and he groans, wholly disarmed by the realization that she is _dreaming_ about him. 

It’s his surrendering groan, pressed hot against the shell of her ear that ultimately wakes Rey up. Ben tenses, hyper aware of how hard he is, pressed eagerly into her soft heat of her thigh, and how small their shared cot is.  Rey blinks, lips parting against his skin before her tongue darts out, heart accelerating as she realizes she’s slipped out of her dream and into reality.

“I-“ she inhales sharply, cheeks flushing pink as she feels him hard against her thigh, and Ben swallows heavily. 

“Ben,” she tries again, pearly teeth coming out to worry her lower lip (he thinks he might be about to pass out with how badly he wants her). Rey’s cheek is still cushioned against his arm, and Ben hardly has to move his head to press an open mouthed kiss against the side of her throat before he speaks.

“Having sweet dreams?” He punctuates the question with a roll of his own hips, breath catching at the feel of her thighs against his cock. There’s anticipation in every line of her body, their bond as blown open as her pupils when she turns her head to look at him. One thin hand reaches to cup his cheek, and her desire crashes over him like a wave.

It’s all the invitation he needs. 

The hand that had been curled around her hip dips low, finds the apex of her thighs and before Rey can even inhale with anticipation his fingers are on her clit. He takes his time, the languid rhythm of his fingers a stark contrast to the rush of need that tears across the bond. Rey presses her mouth to the soft skin on the inside of his arm and rocks her hips against his hand, desperate for more friction. Ben grants it slowly, first by abandoning her clit in favor of sinking one finger into her cunt, the juncture of his thumb and forefinger replacing his fingertips as he begins to move.

Rey throws her head back against his chest, and is rewarded by the scrape of his teeth along her pulse point. His hand moves steadily, drawing her out with each slow thrust of his fingers into her heat.

“ _Ben_ ” she begs, one hand reaching back to curl around the shaft of his cock. It’s clear what she wants, and the once Supreme Leader is all too happy to give it to her.

“Get on your stomach,” he purrs, breath hot against her collarbone when he speaks (Rey’s never been so happy to take an order before in her life).

The disused cot beneath them squeaks in protest as she complies, pillows hitting the floor when Ben’s forearm comes down in front of her nose. He’s radiating heat above her, and flooding the bond with images of the two of them that send her heart racing: Ben, bathed in flat red light as he kneels before her, mouth hot against her clit as she sits atop his throne. Ben, pressing her back against the wall of the _Falcon_ with her hands in his hair. Rey gazing up at him as his hips rock into her, hair splayed across his pillows like a corona. Rey with her eyelashes brushing the freckles on her cheeks, hands folded in her lap as she sucks on his fingers.

She feels it through the bond as Ben gives himself a few slick pumps, goosebumps rushing up her arms in response when he presses the head of his cock against her entrance. _Ready?_ He asks, voice filling her head with the same heat that’s burned through her stomach. The closest thing she can muster to a response is the press of her lips against his wrist where it braces on the mattress in front of her. He presses inside, and then Rey is lost to the pleasure of being filled. 

Where his fingers had been lazy in their exploration, his hips are nearly punishing, setting a rhythm that has her teeth clacking with each thrust. Rey meets him stroke for stroke, core engaging as she pushes her hips back and against the sharp angles of his hipbones. His free hand tangles in her hair and pulls her head back, opening the length of her throat up for him to nip. Rey lets out a cry and pushes one of her hands down to rub at her clit, and Ben’s pleasure at the movement is nearly overwhelming in their shared headspace. 

“Good,” he growls into her ear, hips picking up in tempo even more, “ _good._ ” She’s so close she can almost taste it, like the warm tang of Ben against her lips when she sucks him off (an image she pushes across the bond at him to glorious effect). Without warning, his hips cease movement all together, cock buried impossibly deep within her, and Rey is left to moan and squirm as her fingers falter.

“You know what to do,” he presses into her ear, and she does. Her hips pick up, drawing forward until only the very tip of him remains inside before pushing back down. She sets up her rhythm slowly, fingers matching stroke for stroke as she works herself up and down his length. Ben is breathing like he’s just fought off an entire squad of Stormtroopers above her, the restraint it takes to hold still only serving to drive him higher as the first few waves of her orgasm break. She gasps his name into the thick air of the bunk, toes curling against his calves, and then he is moving again. The sharp snap of his hips sends her orgasm even higher, and it’s not long before he is collapsing on top of her, groaning as he follows her over the edge. 

They lay like that for what feels like a long time, sweat cooling and Ben long soft by the time he pulls out reluctantly. His arms are a welcome support as he tugs her boneless frame against his chest, rolling them so he’s on his back and she’s tucked into the space between the wall and him, eyelashes fluttering against his collarbone as she struggles to stay awake.

“We have about two and a half standard hours until the shuttle is here,” he mumbles into her hair, following up with a kiss to her sweaty hair. _I love you,_ he presses into the bond, the sentiment warm and all consuming. Rey sets her lips against his shoulder and sinks even lower into his embrace. _I love you too_. And then they are both drifting off again, the Force humming its content and filling the whole planet with a warmth that seems to even thaw Hoth and its bitter winds just a little.

**Author's Note:**

> shamelessly written for a "bed sharing" prompt. have something you want to see realized? hit my line via tumblr ( _hyperphonic_ )  
> 


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